faint about nothing--"a poor plucked 'un," as he termed him--

To begin again:--

Sam, who was in his best black and stiffest white tie, consequent upon
"the doctor" having company to dinner that evening, had just come out of
the dining-room of the dingy house in Wimpole Street, carrying a
mahogany tray full of dish covers, when cook opened the glass door at
the top of the kitchen stairs, thrust her head into the hall, looked
eagerly at Sam, as she stood fanning her superheated face with her
apron, and said--

"Well?"

There was a folding pair of trestles standing ready, and Sam placed the
tray upon them, raised a white damask napkin from where it hung over his
arm, and was about to wipe his perspiring forehead with it, when cook
exclaimed sharply--

"Sam!"

"Forgot," said that gentleman, and he replaced the napkin upon his arm
and took out a clean pocket-handkerchief, did what was necessary, and
then repeated cook's word--

"Well?"

"Did they say anything about the veal cutlets?"

"No," said Sam, shaking his head.

"Nor yet about the curry?"

"No. And they didn't say a word about the soup, nor half a word about
the fish."

"My chycest gravy soup, _ar lar prin temps_" said cook bitterly, "and
_filly de sole mater de hotel_. One might just as well be cutting chaff
for horses. I don't see any use in toiling and moiling over the things
as I do. Mr Landon's just as bad as master, every bit. I don't
believe either of 'em's got a bit o' taste. Hot as everything was,
too!"

"Spesherly the plates," said Sam solemnly. "Burnt one of my fingers
when the napkin slipped."

"Then you should have took care. What's a dinner unless the plates and
dishes are hot?"

"What, indeed?" said Sam; "but they don't take no notice of anything.
My plate looked lovely, you could see your face out o' shape in every
spoon; and I don't believe they even saw the eighteen-pen'orth o'
flowers on the table."

"Savages! that's what they are," said cook. "But they did eat the
things."

"Yes, they pecked at 'em, but they was talking all the time."

"About my cooking?"

"Not they! The doctor was talking about a surgical case he had been to
see at the hospital. Something about a soldier as had been walking
about for three years with a bit of broken spear stuck in him out in the
Soudan."

"Ugh!" grunted cook, with a shudder of disgust. "That was over the veal
cutlets," said Sam thoughtfully.

"And what did Mr Landon sa